


dizzy punch

by fiction fetishist (fictionfetishist)



Series: utapri fic challenge [5]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfetishist/pseuds/fiction%20fetishist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t understand why the agency continues to let them consume alcohol.”</p>
<p>In which Starish goes drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dizzy punch

**Author's Note:**

> technically still part of my ‘write a fic for every utapri ep’ thing, but seeing as this isn’t related to (or inspired by) ep5, i kind of feel like i’m cheating somehow.
> 
> despite that though, i still want to post something, so here, have this drabble that sort of spiraled out of control.

“I don’t understand why the agency continues to let them consume alcohol,” Tokiya comments to Masato mildly, watching the others from the other side of the room.

Syo looks absolutely smashed, as usual, dangling off the edge of the table, a few millimeters away from falling off. Natsuki is at his side, relishing in the chance to be affectionate now that his usual target is barely capable of standing up, much less pushing him away. Otoya sits across them, flushed almost as red as his hair, slurring yet somehow managing a conversation with Syo despite the latter’s inability to make coherent sentences. Ren sits at Otoya’s side, mixing various beverages together before just downing the whole bottle. Cecil, on the other hand, is sleeping away in the corner, dead to the rest of the night’s activities.

“Shining does seem to enjoy his liquor,” Masato reasons, sipping at his sake. “I suppose he feels it’s his way of fostering good relations with us.”

“A lot of the things he does certainly make more sense under the assumption that he’s intoxicated,” Tokiya says, swirling the wine in his glass.

Beside him, Masato attempts to stifle a laugh, sputtering into his cup. “Ichinose,” he says, after a moment. “You might get in trouble for saying things like that.”

Tokiya takes a long drink, and finishes off his glass. “People can be hardly held fully responsible for things they say under the influence.”

“True,” Masato says. “But you’re not exactly under the influence, are you?”

“I could be,” Tokiya shrugs, but concedes the point anyway. He’s hardly ever the first to go down after a couple of rounds, and he’s never gotten drunk enough to the point where it actually mattered. (Recently though, he’s begun wondering if his ability to remain sober is due to his alcohol tolerance being high, or everyone else’s being too low—Syo’s in particular, especially.)

“I have to say I’m quite surprised Cecil isn’t joining us on this side, though,” he adds, after a moment of silence, watching as Cecil continues to sleep peacefully in the corner.

“I was more surprised by the fact that he pulled a lyre out of his pants and started singing 30 minutes in, to be honest,” Masato replies, and this time it’s Tokiya’s turn to laugh. No one had really been able to expect that.

“I get what you mean, though,” Masato continues, once Tokiya had calmed down, “I was also under the belief that Cecil’s royal heritage would have at least made him more accustomed to the effects of alcohol.”

“He might even be worse than Syo, at this rate,” Tokiya says.

“Kurusu makes a horrible drunk, though,” Masato argues. “At least Cecil is quiet, even if it did only take him one drink to get there.”

“You do have a point,” Tokiya concedes, because, really, Syo is a _horrible_ drunk. It’s quite disconcerting how someone so small can cause such a huge mess.

Even now, despite being considerably slowed down in the motor department, he’s managed to take half the table’s contents down with him upon finally giving in to gravity and slumping helplessly against the tatami.

“I was still drinking that,” Ren complains, in lieu of worrying over the smaller boy. He is ignored.

“Syo-chan~, Are you okay~?” Natsuki asks, sounding concerned despite visibly squeezing what oxygen Syo might have left in his system as he piles on top of him.

“Yeah, Syo,” Otoya adds, looking over at his friend. “It sounded like you fell pretty hard.”

“Ughhh,” Syo replies, attempting to unplaster his face from the floor.

“I was still drinking that,” Ren repeats, casting the three a vicious glare, a frightening mix of depressed and homicidal. He is ignored, again.

“I worry about Ren’s liver,” is all Tokiya has to say, noticing the number of empty bottles littering the room.

“His family has a good doctor,” Masato assures, matter-of-factly. Tokiya chuckles.

“Still, he’s drunk quite a bit more than usual this time, don’t you think?” Tokiya says. “He’s normally here with us.”

“True,” Masato says, pensive. “He would have been fine if he hadn’t let Syo goad him into having that fourth rematch, I think.”

“Ah,” Tokiya says, looking to the ceiling. “The fourth rematch… Was that before or after Syo’s attempt to tackle Shakespeare?”

“Before,” Masato replies, surely. “He could still stand by then.”

“Of course,” Tokiya recalls, laughing slightly. “Otoya made quite a good Hamlet, actually.”

“Shame he can’t be as eloquent during his interviews,” Masato laments, though his tone is fond.

“Yeah,” Tokiya says, softly, watching as the night finally starts to wind down.

Syo, instead of continuing whatever pretense he had of being lucid, now snores lightly, curled up against Natsuki, the latter’s arms hugging him tightly. Otoya joins the two of them, moving from his spot on the table to lie beside them. Ren, on the other hand, stays put, resting his head on the wooden surface, arms wrapped protectively around his glasses upon glasses of assorted liquor. Cecil, meanwhile, still sleeps as soundly as ever, tucked away in the corner where he had stayed for the past few hours.

Tokiya yawns, seeing the scene before him. “Hey,” he says, to Masato, stretching his arms. “Do you think it’s time we shut down for tonight?”

Receiving no reply, Tokiya turns to his seatmate, smiling when he sees him sound asleep as well, head bobbing up and down.

“Well then,” Tokiya says, standing up and nudging Masato into a more comfortable position on the floor. “I guess it’s just me tonight,” he yawns again, grabbing the blankets off of one of the shelves, making sure to tuck everyone in comfortably.

“Goodnight, everyone,” he says, softly, taking one last look around the room before turning off the lights and moving back to his place, ready to get some well-needed rest as well. “Let’s all see each other again tomorrow.”


End file.
